


Someone Else's Hands

by blkkskknhed



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: Caring Harvey, Donna is Donna, Eventual Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt!Mike, Jealous Harvey, Louis is a sweetie, Mike fucks up, Mike is an exotic dancer, Mike-Centric, Multi, Protective Harvey, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, bastardized legal jargon, mentions of drugs and drug use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-19 19:33:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15517041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blkkskknhed/pseuds/blkkskknhed
Summary: “What do you want?” Mike demands angrily, snapping his hand out of Harvey’s grip. “You got some kind of fucked up hero complex? You think you’re gonnasaveme? Newsflash, dickwad: I don’t need saving!”“Did you just call me a dickwad?” Harvey asks mildly, his nose wrinkled in clear disapproval.“That is so besides the point right now!” Mike explodes exasperatedly. “I’ve told you to leave me the fuck alone. I’m not the witness you’re looking for. I’m not helping you take him down. Go pay off somebody else. I don’t want your money.”“I’m not offering you money.” Harvey says calmly. “I’m offering you freedom.”Mike stares at him for a long, hard moment.“I found freedom. Losing all hope was freedom.” Mike says quietly and he’s surprised when Harvey’s lips quirk upwards into a smile.“Fight Club.” Harvey comments. "Great movie."OrMike is an exotic dancer who feels trapped in a job he cannot leave.Harvey is a lawyer who decides he's gonna save him.





	1. Kream

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, I have nothing but respect for exotic dancers/strippers/sex workers. This work in no way reflects how I imagine the life of any of the above.  
> Secondly, there is a paragraph in this chapter which features non-explicit dubious consent/rape. If this upsets you, please don't read.  
> Thirdly, this is my first foray into the Suits fandom. Please be kind.
> 
> PS: Each chapter will be named after whichever song Mike is dancing to.

Mike is getting too old for this. His body is aching and tired and he has dark circles under his eyes. Night five out of six. Sunday can’t come quick enough.  
He stares at his reflection miserably, his headache pounding a lot worse than it had been earlier with all the noise coming from the front bar and the deep sound of the thumping bass. He sighs miserably, pressing the heels of his hands against his dry, itchy eyes and exhales noisily. His hangover from the night before is worse than it had been that morning and not even weed could take the edge off.

(He can’t do this anymore.).

He glances up as Jenny appears. She’s wrapped in her robe and she watches him, her red lipstick smudged and her eyeliner running just enough to give Mike some idea of what she had been doing. Their eyes meet in the mirror and she manages a small smile before she plonks down beside him and grabs the eye drops on his dressing table. 

“Look up.” She says quietly.

Mike tilts his head back and does as he’s told. He blinks the drops away and gives Jenny a warm smile as she cups his cheek, ignoring the concerned look she’s giving him. 

(And it’s laughable really, that she was concerned about him when her own life was just as shit as his.)

“You need some blow.” She decides. “And some concealer to hide those circles, you get any sleep at all?” She demands, going to her purse and getting the bag of coke.

Mike shrugs and watches Jenny as she cuts him a line. Mike never managed to get much sleep. His mind was always racing and whirling with ideas and information and processing things he couldn’t during the day. He stares at the white powder. It never fully managed to cut out the buzz inside of his head but it helped him to forget, usually. He leans over and snorts it in one go, closing his eyes as he waits for his body to start chasing the high. It takes a while before Mike feels his muscles relax and he slumps back in his chair, sighing softly.

“You up next?” Jenny asks as she starts dressing herself and wiping off her own make up and Mike opens his eyes and nods. 

“Yep. Rough crowd tonight?” He hums, a knowing look in his eyes and Jenny shrugs. 

“Good tippers.” She reasons. 

And Mike smiles, a genuine one, a twinkle in his blue eyes that is only partially from the blow.

(Because with payday over a fortnight away and Grams medical bills due, Mike knows he had to bring his A game.)

 

-

 

Mike is one of the best male exotic dancers in the business. He enjoys the dancing, he does. 

 

(He just hates the _extras_.)

 

He’s good at dancing. His body naturally moves to the music and he doesn’t need to practice routines, he feeds off the energy of the crowd, watching them with sharp, blue eyes and reading them, deciphering what they want and what they like.

(Him. They all want him.)

Tonight, the place is busier than usual. It’s filled with suits and slick hair and expensive watches and they’re drunk. Mike can see the girls barely managing to keep their smiles in place as they’re groped and hit on as they serve the men their drinks. There’s one suit sitting apart from the rest and Mike fixes his gaze on him, feeling that familiar hum beneath his skin when he realizes that he has his full attention, dark eyes watching him intently and Mike has to fight the urge to smirk, rolling his hips against the pole and slowly work his way down the pole, legs spread and elbows by his knees.

_Ass rules everything around me, deep in that pussy, I’m drowning…_

Suit with the dark eyes is smiling a little now, an amused look on his face as Mike starts working his way back up the pole and Mike finds himself zoning in on him, forgetting about all the other drunken men throwing money his way. Mike grips the pole with his thighs and leans back, his back arching into a perfect bow, showcasing his toned physique and he slides down the pole just as the music ends before getting to his feet, accepting a drink from one of the men before walking back behind the curtain, his skin buzzing as he feels the suit with the dark eyes tracking his every move. 

(And it’s intoxicating, a high Mike always enjoys).

“Not bad, kid.” Tanner announces seemingly out of nowhere, making the smile fade from Mike’s face and his body stiffen with surprise.

(Because he wasn’t meant to be here tonight, tonight was his night off.)

Mike falters a little, biting his full bottom lip before shrugging. 

“Thank you, sir.” He says softly, standing there and waiting because Tanner never just offered praise and walked away.

(He wanted something.)

“There’s a guy out there, you notice him? Arrogant, terrible hair and sitting away from the others?” Tanner asks and Mike nods. “He’s offered a lot of money to take you into one of the suites. Wants a private dance.”

And Mike’s stomach clenches and drops. He hates the suites. He hates being anywhere that Tanner can see him. And Tanner always watches Mike after The Incident. Mike licks his lips anxiously and his pulse is pounding in his ears now because he knows he can’t say no.

(But if he goes into the suites then that means Tanner will want a turn after.)

“Lemme freshen up?” Mike asks, pushing a hand through his hair and he knows he’s said the right thing because Tanner grins and nods. 

“Alright. Suite Two. Ten minutes.”

 

-

 

 _Lick_ had been one of the fanciest places in town when Mike had joined three years ago. He was nineteen, a Harvard failure and broke. He’d needed the money. He had rent and bills and then Grammy got old and she needed the help and all Mike had wanted was to take care of her the way she had always taken care of him. He’d been stuck. He’d needed cash and needed it fast and _Lick_ had seemed like a good idea. 

(He just wishes he’d read the fucking contract).

 

-

 

Suit with the Dark Eyes is silent and he’s watching Mike as if he already knows his story, as if he’s already deciphered and decoded him. Mike tries not to let it intimidate him and he takes a sip of his drink, letting the alcohol burn his throat and distract him from the cameras covertly planted since The Incident. 

(And he knows Tanner is watching his every move. He knows he’s listening.)

“I take it you liked what you saw?” Mike purrs, putting his drink down and shrugging out of his robe, smiling seductively down at Dark Eyes. 

Dark Eyes says nothing, his face a cool, neutral mask and Mike continues smirking, moving his hips to the music playing faintly in the front bar, biting his lip as he steps closer, steadfastly choking down the urge to glance at one of the cameras, knowing that if he does, he’ll give it away and that Tanner will punish him. 

“The strong and silent type, huh?” Mike teases when there is no response from Dark Eyes. “I can work with that.” 

Mike climbs onto Dark Eyes’ lap and isn’t surprised to find that he smells like expensive cologne and perfumed hair gel. 

“Tell me how you like it.” He breathes, licking his lips and grinning. “Fast? Slow? You choose.”

Mike grinds against him, his hands balanced delicately on his shoulders to give him leverage and Dark Eyes grips his waist, one hand sneaking up to cup the back of his head and pulling Mike down closer. 

“Kisses are extra.” Mike warns, still moving his hips, his pulse racing as Dark Eyes presses his lips against his ear.

“And what about information?” Dark Eyes purrs, his hot breath tickling him. “How much is that?”

Mike freezes and struggles to break the embrace. 

(He’s not doing this again. He paid the price last time.)

“Easy.” Dark Eyes breathes, one hand cupping his face. “Keep putting on your little show. I know he’s watching.” 

Mike draws back enough to look into those eyes and finds himself starting to move again, that practiced and perfected smile gracing his lips once more and in the dimly lit suite he can see the approval in those deep, brown eyes. He lowers his mouth to Dark Eyes’ ear, writhing in his lap as he spoke. 

“I don’t talk to cops.” He exhales before climbing off his lap and turning his back to the man, giving him his best ass show and he huffs out a laugh as Dark Eyes grabs his thighs and walks him back onto his lap, his back pressed against his chest, hips still grinding.

“Who said I’m a cop?” Dark Eyes mutters against the shell of his ear. “Name’s Harvey. I’m a lawyer and I can help you.”

“Help me?” Mike mumbles. “Who said I wanted your help?”

Harvey’s hands are hot and heavy against his abdomen and Mike’s heart is hammering because if Tanner hears them, he’s gonna pay. 

“Give me information on your boss.” Harvey urges quietly as he kisses his neck. “And then I can help you.”

Mike lets out a soft chuckle. 

“So, really…” He gasps as Harvey nips at his earlobe. “You need my help.”

“No.” Harvey exhales and Mike can feel that he’s hard beneath him, his own hips finally moving against Mike’s. “You need to help yourself.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Mike can see the red light of one of the cameras blinking as it zooms closer and Mike grits his teeth and climbs off Harvey’s lap, eyes steely as he watches him. He doesn’t even pretend to dance now, downing his drink before grabbing his robe and tugging it on angrily. Harvey seems unsurprised, one eyebrow raised as he watches him expectantly.

“Fuck you.” Mike spits before storming out, hoping Tanner buys the performance.

(He’d had to leave before he’d spilled and begged and gushed.)

 

-

Tanner believes it and so he _rewards_ Mike and as Mike bends over the desk, gritting his teeth and blocking out the world around him, he questions whether the punishment really is that much worse than this.


	2. The Night We Met

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I had Chapter Two ready to go so I just thought fuck it!  
> Let me know if you're enjoying it and thank you for the comments and kudos so far!
> 
> XX

“So. Do we have a witness?” Jessica hums, not bothering to look up from her computer, her long, elegant fingers typing agilely. 

She’s not focussing though, Harvey can tell. He can see that she’s listening intently, that he has her full attention. She’s just as anxious about this as he is. She knows they need a win. She knows that _Harvey_ needs to win.

“Not yet.” Harvey sighs, throwing himself into one of the plush armchairs that adorned the office. “The kid is either loyal, dumb or scared shitless.”

“Which is it?” Jessica asks, one perfectly shaped eyebrow arched and she’s trying too hard to be casual, to seem unaffected.

(But she is because he’s never let her down before.)

Harvey purses his lips for a moment before shrugging. 

“Y’know what? I don’t know. I can’t read him.” He admits quietly and Jessica finally looks up, a surprised expression colouring her face. 

“That’s a first.” She states calmly and Harvey nods. 

He can read _everyone_ , it’s what he’s good at. It’s his skill, his selling point. He can decode people with a single glance, can learn more about them from how they carry themselves than from the first few sentences of conversation. But Mike Ross is different. He’s not easily read. He’s a kid who’s learned to block everyone else off, to hide who he truly is, to hide what it is he wants. And that’s puzzling Harvey because he’s never met anyone like that before.

“I still think he’s our key player. We need him if we wanna bring down Tanner. I just can’t figure out what his price is yet.” Harvey ponders, a perplexed look on his face. 

“Weren’t you the one who told me everyone has his price?” Jessica smirks and Harvey smiles.

“I think that was Dr. Robotnik from _Sonic the Hedgehog_ but hey, I’ll take the credit.” He teases, drumming his finger against the table top in front of him, exhaling quietly. “I don’t know what he wants.” Harvey admits, working his jaw. “He’s…different.”

(And Harvey likes that.)

“Well, I guess you don’t need me reminding you how important this case is.” Jessica says seriously and Harvey grins. 

“Never stopped you before.” He points out and Jessica laughs.

“You better win this damned case.” She states and Harvey nods.

He would. Whatever the cost.

 

-

 

Mike walks home slowly. He’s aching all over and he’s tired and hungry and he didn’t have enough cash for a cab seeing as Tanner pocketed all his tips, telling him he’d get them as a bonus when his pay-check was due.

(It’s a lie. Tanner was just being an asshole.)

When he eventually makes it to his apartment, there’s a beautiful redhead standing outside, a pizza box in her hands and when she sees Mike, her face lights up and she rolls her eyes, flicking her hair over her shoulder. 

“Oh, my God. Finally!” She exclaims, shoving the pizza box into his hands. “Jeez, kid, you look like you could do with a couple of hundred of these but here, this should do you for now. Harvey’s sorry he couldn’t drop it over himself- he’s tied up in a meeting.” 

Mike stares at her, flabbergasted and the smell of the pizza is making his stomach growl and his mouth water but he continues to stare, his brows furrowing as he digests everything she’s said. 

“I don’t want his pizza.” Mike argues but the redhead just rolls her eyes even more dramatically. 

“Uh huh, sure, is that why you’re drooling all over the box?” She teases, a small smile tugging at her pink lips. “Look kid, take the pizza. Eat it. There are no strings attached. Harvey just… figured you’d like one, I guess. I dunno how his super-mind works.” She laughs. “Anyway. I’m going to bed- which you should do too after you eat that pizza. You look like shit.”

“Um. Thanks?” Mike offers, frowning and giving this red-haired woman a confused look. “Who the fuck is this Harvey guy?”

(And why did he give a damn if Mike ate or not?)

But the woman doesn’t answer. She simply gives him a smile and shrugs, stepping passed him and strutting her way over to a dark car. She slides inside and is gone without another word, leaving Mike standing outside his building, his brows furrowed with confusion and he exhales, staring at the pizza box for a moment before he steps inside and starts climbing the stairs to his fourth-floor apartment. When he unlocks the door he’s kind of relieved to see that Trevor is out. He kicks off his shoes and goes to slip into something more comfortable. He shrugs on a worn old t-shirt and then sits down and stares at the pizza box, swallowing hard before opening it. It’s a Meat Feast and Mike almost cries at the smell. It’s still warm and he wolfs down his first slice. It is only after his fourth slice that he notices the message scrawled across the lid:

_Harvey Specter 212 675-2312_

And maybe it’s the coke or maybe it’s the alcohol or maybe it’s the fact that Tanner had fucking _raped_ him again, but Mike picks up his cell and dials the number, his breath hitching at the sound of a gruff, sleep-heavy voice that answers 

“Harvey Specter.” He announces.

Mike says nothing for a moment, his mind racing as he thinks of what to say.

“I prefer Hawaiian.” He murmurs.

There’s the rustling of bed sheets as Harvey obviously sits up and then a quiet huff down the phone. 

“Pineapple is _not_ a pizza topping.” Harvey argues and Mike can’t help but smile.

“Gotta get my five-a-day in somehow.” He breathes, eyes constantly glancing at the door as though expecting Tanner to come bursting through it.

“Why did you call?” Harvey asks curiously and Mike is at a loss there.

(Except he’s not, not really. He knows why he called.)

“You can’t buy me.” Mike whispers. “I’m not your guy.”

And then he hangs up.

 

-

 

Mike hums softly as Trevor climbs into bed beside him, wrapping his arms around him and tugging him close. Trevor sighs and tucks Mike’s head against his chest, murmuring his apologies about waking him but Mike doesn’t care. He arches into his touch and cranes his neck to press a kiss to Trevor’s chin, laughing softly as Trevor leans down and kisses him properly, kissing his way along his neck before he stops, his grip around Mike tightening and Mike freezes. He knows what Trevor’s found. 

“Who gave you the love-bite?” He asks quietly and Mike says nothing.

(Harvey.)

“Mike?”

Mike opens his eyes and looks at Trevor guiltily. 

“A client.” He says softly.

And Trevor has every right to push him away, a disgusted look on his face before he grabs a pillow and heads for the couch and Mike jumps out of the bed and follows him, needing to fix it. 

“Trev- come on; don’t be like that!” He exclaims. “It’s a job!”

Trevor turns to him, _furious_.

“We agreed you’d stop doing extras!” He shouts and Mike watches him wordlessly, biting his lip and shrugging.

“I wish I had that luxury.” Mike breathes. “I told you I don’t get to choose.”

“Then _quit_!” Trevor says exasperatedly. “Just quit and work three jobs like the rest of us!”

“I can’t quit! I told you- the contract has me tied in for five years!” Mike snaps angrily. “You think I enjoy working there? Huh? You think I like having absolute strangers touch me and grope me and shove me around?”

That quietens Trevor a bit. He’s watching Mike, his expression unreadable but at least he’s silent. He’s hugging his pillow to his chest and Mike worries his bottom lip before shrugging, fingering the hem of his t-shirt.

“I’m sorry? If that’s worth anything.” He breathes. 

Trevor shakes his head and puts down the pillow. He approaches Mike, wrapping his arms around him and hugging him closely. He says nothing but Mike knows that he feels as trapped in all of this as Mike does.

“Tell me about _your_ day.” Mike breathes, his face tucked against the crook of Trevor’s neck and Trevor lets out a quiet laugh.

“Crazy old lady was back again. She thinks there are aliens in her attic.” He chuckles and Mike manages a small smile.

(Mike wishes he had aliens in his attack rather than a monster in his dressing room.)

 

-

 

It’s a full week before Mike sees Harvey again. 

It’s three o’clock in the morning and Mike has just finished a particularly shitty shift. Thankfully Tanner wasn’t there and at least Mike hadn’t had to face him on top of everything else. He’s walking with a limp after an especially rough client and it takes him a minute to recognize the man standing outside, dressed sleekly, leaning against an impressive car and Mike freezes for a moment before picking up the pace and practically sprinting away.

“Mike? Wait!” Harvey calls, reaching out and grabbing his hand as he tries to push past him. “I know you want out. I can _help_ you. Let me do that.”

“What do you want?” Mike demands angrily, snapping his hand out of Harvey’s grip. “You got some kind of fucked up hero complex? You think you’re gonna _save_ me? Newsflash, dickwad: I don’t need saving!”

“Did you just call me a dickwad?” Harvey asks mildly, his nose wrinkled in clear disapproval.

“That is so besides the point right now!” Mike explodes exasperatedly. “I’ve told you to leave me the fuck alone. I’m not the witness you’re looking for. I’m not helping you take him down. Go pay off somebody else. I don’t want your money.”

“I’m not offering you money.” Harvey says calmly. “I’m offering you freedom.”

Mike stares at him for a long, hard moment. 

“I found freedom. Losing all hope was freedom.” Mike says quietly and he’s surprised when Harvey’s lips quirk upwards into a smile.

“ _Fight Club_.” Harvey comments. “Great movie.”

Mike falters for a moment and he looks up and down the street, a knot in his stomach, terrified that Tanner will suddenly appear and know what he’s doing. 

“You’re gonna get me killed.” He warns. “I mean, probably not literally but figuratively speaking.”

“Then let’s go for a drink.” Harvey states with a shrug. “You can talk to me. Or not but you look like you could do with one.”

Mike bites his lip and he thinks about it but he’s already climbing into Harvey’s car before he even properly processes what this drink will entail. They’re both silent as Harvey’s driver cruises out of Manhattan and into Brooklyn. They go somewhere quiet and Mike is grateful. The man at the door knows Harvey and greets him warmly before Harvey brings him inside. He orders them both some Scotch and Mike curls up in his seat, guarding himself unconsciously from Harvey’s penetrating glare. 

“How long have you been working at _Lick_ for?” Harvey asks.

Mike says nothing. He sips his drink and shrugs.

“I assume you already have that kind of information. That’s easily gotten. You just want to warm me up before you start asking the questions you really want the answers to.” Mike says knowingly.

Harvey leans back in his own seat and watches him appraisingly. 

“What kind of answers do you think I want?” Harvey asks and Mike smirks. 

“I have no idea.” He hums around the rim of his glass. “But something tells me they’re a little tougher than how many years I’ve been working there. I dunno, call it a _sixth sense_ or something, but I feel like your questions will have something to with suspected criminal or illegal activities.” 

Harvey barks out a laugh that makes Mike’s ears turn a light pink.

(He likes the way it sounds. He wants to hear it again.)

“Why don’t you just spare me the effort of asking them and offer up the information willingly?” Harvey teases, leaning in closer, brown eyes finding blue and Mike can barely suppress the shiver running through his body.

“That’s not how this works. You’re supposed to impress _me_ , not the other way around.” Mike breathes and their hands are almost touching, their fingertips about to meet and there’s something in the air, some heady, intoxicating feeling that makes Mike want to press his lips against Harvey’s and taste him. 

“Your name is Mike Ross. You’re a Harvard drop out. Your parents are dead- car accident. Your grandmother is in a care facility. She’s not doing too well there. Needs better care. You pay for that as well as the apartment you share with Trevor Evans, a known drug dealer. You’ve worked at _Lick_ for three years now. Travis Tanner is your boss and you… you don’t like him but you’re scared of him so that’s why you don’t leave?”

The last part is a question, a question that Mike won’t answer. 

“Wow. My life sounds pretty pathetic when you lay it out like that.” Mike hums, downing what’s left of his drink. “My turn. Your name is Harvey Specter. You’re an asshole lawyer in some big ass law firm and you’re a known douchebag. You get paid mega bucks to torture pathetic shit-bags like me and your boss is gonna give you a couple of million dollars if you win this case against Tanner for her. You think I’m your star witness because I went to Harvard and I wasn’t born into this life like the rest of them. You think if you buy me pizza and flirt with me you’ll win me over but guess what asshole? I’m not a prize. I’m not gonna be your secret weapon because if I turn him in, I go down with him and no, I won’t take a plea bargain or a deal from the DA so stay the fuck away from me.”

Harvey is smirking at him now, something glinting in those dark eyes, an impressed look.

"Tell me why you're going down with him if you turn him in." He presses but Mike shakes his head and gets to his feet, hissing at the pain as his earlier exertions finally come back to haunt him. 

Harvey's expression softens and he stands as well, reaching out to offer Mike some support.

"You alright?" He asks lowly and Mike nods, batting his hand away before standing up straighter, despite the ache deep inside him. 

"I'm fine." He snaps. "I gotta go. Trevor will be worried."

"I'll drop you home." Harvey decides and it's not an offer, it's an action.

(And God, Mike thinks, where were you three years ago?)

 

-

 

\---  
4:31 AM  
HARVEY SPECTER

Your life isn't pathetic.   
\---

\---  
4:37 AM  
MIKE ROSS

I thought lawyers were immune to guilt?  
\---

\---  
4:38 AM  
HARVEY SPECTER

I thought strippers couldn't spell?  
\---

\---  
4:39 AM  
MIKE ROSS

Look at us, debunking stereotypes.   
\---

\---  
4:40 AM  
HARVEY SPECTER

They'll make movies about us. The lawyer with a heart and the stripper with a brain.   
\---

\---  
4:41 AM  
MIKE ROSS

Pretty sure it's been done.   
\---

\---  
4:42 AM  
HARVEY SPECTER

There's nothing original left in world anymore. We are all stealing from someone.  
\---

\---  
4:42 AM  
MIKE ROSS

 _Paranoia_? Terrible movie.   
\---

\---  
4:42 AM  
MIKE ROSS

Liam Hemsworth thoooooo.  
\---

\---  
4:43 AM  
HARVEY SPECTER

Goodnight, Mike.   
\---


End file.
